Basel, September 1941.
The only thing that reassures me in all of this is that she hasn't taken off her ring. It may not be very expensive, but it's the only thing my grandmother gave me that I have left of her. My relationship with her was the meaning of peace and gentleness. When my father slapped me because I wasn't supposed to cry, otherwise I wasn't a man, my grandmother would tell him that a real man owns his feelings.
And she was right. She was always right, anyway. I have to do everything to win her heart back, to find her again at least for her to feel better. I want to see her regain hope in life.
While she's washing up, I'm going to go get some flowers. I know she won't say anything when she sees them, but I'm absolutely sure she'll be happy to see them.
I grab my jacket and my wallet, heading to the flower shop. I decide to get yellow tulips. I've always felt that yellow is her color. Why? I have no idea. I've always imagined her in my dreams surrounded by warm colors, like her smile. So it doesn't seem strange at all to me to choose the color of the sun for her, as a first attempt to get closer to her.
— Heinrich?
I turn around at that voice, which sounds so familiar.
— Leïla, is that you?
— Heinrich, it's been so long since we've seen each other.
— Yes, it's true. Quite a long time now.
I've known Leïla since childhood, but around the time she turned 15, she and her parents moved about three hours away from us. So we easily lost touch, but seeing her here, it's like a miracle.
— Heinrich, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be a soldier.
— Yes, um, it's quite a long story. Do you want to sit down and I'll explain the gist of it?
— Of course!
One hour later.
— Well, I've never heard a story as astounding as this one.
— Yes, Ruth and I have been through quite a lot, but we're safe now, which is the most important thing.
— Yes, I was wondering what had happened to you all these years. I'm glad to see you here and safe.
— And you? How did you end up here?
— I'll admit it's a bit complicated to explain, and besides, you wouldn't understand.
Her face has changed compared to the start of our conversation. I don't know what she's hiding, but it's surely something serious.
— But I'm here, and married. She says, showing me her hand.
A gold ring encircles her finger, and her smile grows even wider.
— I'm happy for you. Maybe we could organize a dinner to catch up on all that lost time.
— Oh yes, that would be great! And then you'll get to meet my husband, and I'll get to meet the woman who made Heinrich fall in love.
— Okay, great. How about tomorrow night?
— Normally we don't have anything planned, so yes, with pleasure. And it'll be my treat, so I'll give you my address. It's not far from here, you'll find it easily. Our door is green. She says, writing on a piece of paper.
After that, I go back into the shop to get that famous bouquet of flowers, which I should have already placed on the center of the table, but oh well.
I arrive at the apartment. As I open the door, I see her settled in the armchair, hair messy but wearing a brown dress. Just seeing her like this, I feel like she can only be heading toward healing at least, I hope so.
I approach the armchair, and I see that she's fallen asleep. It's the first time in weeks that I've seen her sleep so peacefully. It feels good to see her like this. I place the bouquet in the center of the table. Since it's my only day off, I'm going to take the opportunity to try to take care of her and besides, she's not in any state to do it herself.
A few minutes later.
Unfortunately, I've discovered that I can't cook. I just burned what was supposed to be potatoes. The smell of burning wakes Ruth up, who gets up with her hair all over the place.
— What are you doing?
— I'll admit I have no idea.
— Why did you start cooking? You don't know how?
— The only times I've been in the kitchen were with my grandmother, and I was 10 years old, so I'd say I don't know how anymore.
She lets out a huff, as if annoyed by what I just said.
— You didn't answer my first question. Why did you start cooking?
— Oh, I wanted to do something nice for you, and since you were sleeping, I took the opportunity.
She hasn't even noticed the flowers on the table. That doesn't surprise me when she's focused on something, everything else disappears.
While she takes care of fixing my mistake, I grab the bouquet and stand behind her, waiting for her to turn around. Honestly, I just want to see her face, and whether I still really have a chance. Because even though we kissed, it was just the lack of physical contact the longing. I don't want her to want me only physically. I want her to love me for who I am, and her reaction might help me know if I still have a place in her heart.
She finally decides to turn around. Her gaze falls directly on the bouquet. Her face shows surprise. I don't dare say anything, afraid of forcing her to speak, I want to see her reaction. She takes the bouquet from my hands. She looks at it again and again, as if I've just taken her voice away.
— How? She whispers.
— How? What do you mean?
— How did you know about the tulips? How did you know I loved them? How did you know I love yellow? How?
— I don't know why I chose these ones, but I had a feeling they were the right ones.
And all of a sudden, she started crying.
— What's wrong? Should I not have gotten those? I can go back if you want?
— No… I…
— Then why are you crying? Is it me? Is that it?
— Yes, it's you. I can't do it.
— Can't do what?
— Hate you! When you do things like this, how am I supposed to keep being mad at you?
— But you don't have to force yourself to hate me.
— Yes I do! My neighbors, my friends, my family, they're all probably dead because of German soldiers. What would they say if they saw me like this, loving someone who was on the other side? I can't do that to them. She says, sniffling.
— But Ruth… Why would they be angry with you? You didn't choose to love me.
She looks into my eyes again. Her eyes are so sad, it hurts my heart so much to see her like this. She sets the flowers down on the sink. And she hugs me. I was so not expecting it that my arms are still raised. So I decide to hug her back. Feeling her skin, feeling her heart beat against mine, I want this moment to freeze. I want it to last so long that we'd die in each other's arms.
One hour later.
Ruth decided to make us pasta, since I had brought back a lot of flour. We eat in silence. We didn't say anything after our hug. I simply went to wash up while Ruth prepared the meal, because thanks to me we no longer had any potatoes so we'll have to stop by the grocery store.
The meal passes with the sound of our utensils touching the plates. But I also needed to tell her about the invitation to eat at Leïla's.
— Ruth?
— Mhmm?
— We're invited tomorrow to my childhood friend's place, the one I ran into earlier. And I thought it would do us good to go out.
— And what's her name?
— Leïla.